Chapter 19
“Dusk” came to in the basement of the library. She whined and shuddered as she recalled the assault of her former identity. Spike called out, “Twilight, it worked! Nice to see you actually complete a spell.”
“Hmph. Good thing I knew how to reverse the summoning. I always learn a spell forwards and backwards. That’s the mark of a true magician,” Doctor Sparkle retorted. “Let me see her,” she said as she approached her patient, checking vital signs. Dusk sobbed and looked up at Twilight, at first with fear, but after a moment she guessed that Twilight had saved her life. Her time with herself filled her with violation and shame. Twilight could only imagine how much pain she had just caused “the subject”.
Twilight herself reeled with the blows on her own identity she had received from the day’s events. Her lifelong teacher and mentor had returned as, well, Molestia. How could she have been so blind for so long? She had turned her back on good friends and given so many parts of herself over to increasingly disturbed research. Her life’s work was a lie for a liar. “I can’t afford to think all this right now,” she told herself, and partially succeeded in compartmentalizing. She had a lot of practice. Still, she was very distraught with and for this tiny alicorn. They gazed at each other, longing for some kind of solace.
Spike put in, “I think normal ponies would hug at this point.”
Neither of them was used to hugging other ponies, and recent shocking events had only reinforced those barriers. Twilight held Dusk’s hoof. Or Celestia’s. Or whatever. They shared a few tears.
After a polite wait, Spike alerted, “That’s okay, but we’ve really gotta move. When your best bro over there wakes up, he’s gonna be so pissed.”
“Yeah, come on,” she said, helping Dusk up to her hooves. She turned to leave, but Dusk caught her.
“Wait!” pleaded Dusk. “I—I can’t leave. Is there a way to turn me into—into a Princess without making me not… me? Some pony has to raise the sun.”
“That was my only shot,” Twilight explained impatiently, “The Princess—you—she had me researching… not restoration spells.” She clarified, “Mostly destructive magic. Anyway, there’s nothing more in this library that can help. Maybe if we had a few months, but we have minutes.”
“Would any magic artifacts help?” she suggested.
“Not any of the ones I have access to, which is most of them,” Twilight returned, “maybe the most powerful relics in all of Equestria could help, but those are kept in a secret vault that only Celestia can open,” she replied sorrowfully.
Dusk remained unmoved.
Twilight recalculated, “Oh. Of course, um, can you get us into the Vault?”
Dusk nodded, wincing at every reference to herself as Celestia, but only because it was true. She stumbled to the wall and examined the bookcases. She moved to one and started pushing on it feebly. Twilight intervened and shoved the shelf out of the way, but only a blank patch of wall was revealed. The student stepped back and waited on the master.
Dusk attempted to use her magic but nothing came. She strained at it for a moment before panting and despairing of the attempt.
“Let me help. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I can give you some of my magical energy,” she volunteered. “This might be a bit weird, but calm down,” Twilight warned all involved. She stood in front of Dusk. Leaning down to her, she gingerly touched the tip of her horn to Dusk’s stubby horn, bringing their faces uncomfortably close for two socially awkward ponies. Twilight blushed but started the spell.
For unicorns, this might be considered an intimate gesture; it would definitely qualify as PDA. Light emanated from her horn and settled around her partner’s. “Yeah,” Twilight thought, “this isn’t something you usually do with a manifestation-of-part-of-a-trusted-mentor-who-actually-turned-out-to-be-a-psychopath, aka. a stranger.” Dusk was still crying a little, but started to smile. Could she help it if it felt good? Twilight blushed even more. “Hold it together, Twilight, just remain professional,” she almost begged herself. Her professional side was the only part of her that wasn’t totally freaking out about everything. She finished, and the only light that remained was a bright yellow glow on Dusk’s forehead. “That’s all I have right now,” Twilight sheepishly admitted, “I got pretty worn out with all those heavy-duty spells.”
“Whoa,” Spike interjected, still staring. “Very ‘dear Princess Celestia’,” he insinuated, to Twilight’s chagrin. Dusk was still smiling. Twilight pulled away and glared at her assistant.
“Oh, hey,” he put his hand out and offered, “what happens in the library stays in the library.”
“Just please tell me you can do it,” she implored the reenergized alicorn. Dusk nodded and concentrated her newfound strength on the wall, which shimmered before disintegrating around a door that seemed to burst into existence. Another spell and symbols on the door glowed, and it swung open.
“I don’t get it. I checked everywhere for hidden entrances! There’s no way this has been here all along,” Miss Sparkle exclaimed, losing some of her self-assurance. She had always believed she knew everything there was to know about her library. “I mean, way to go,” she corrected.
“It wasn’t here,” Dusk revealed, before lowering her head and looking away. She was finally bashful after proving her worth as Celestia.
Spike hadn’t taken them seriously at first, but now marveled, “Whoa, we’re actually going to THE secret Vault of Wonders?”
The door opened only to black. Dusk walked in unhesitating. Twilight took in the library for a moment before following. After Spike also entered, the door closed itself. The little dragon smacked into something warm. “Twilight!” he complained, “Give us a little light, will ya?”
She gulped and whispered back, “I’m COMPLETELY used up. I never let that happen.”
A gleam of yellow illuminated Dusk’s face up ahead, urging, “Come on!” The colleagues hurried ahead to catch up with their guide, who easily navigated the familiar passage.
They stepped into a large chamber. At Dusk’s signal, a great glass sun shone out from the wall and revealed sights unseen to Equestria. Enchanted artifacts were mounted on pedestals throughout the room. Some were grand, beautiful, or threatening, and seemed as though they should feature in vaults of their own. Green orbs swirled silently through the water in a silver basin. A daunting, unidentifiable mask brooded with a dim red behind its eyes. A huge sword with a winged emblem as its hilt hummed on its mount. Others appeared less impressive. A small plant put out flowers of every color. One case even seemed to be empty.
Twilight was transfixed marveling at the legendary magic around her.
“What is this about?” Spike said as he reached curiously into the vacant case. Dusk gave a cry and sprang towards the little dragon. He pulled back and reacted, “Geez, what’s the big deal?”
Twilight cautioned, “Remember, Spike, these relics are here because they are too precious or too deadly for the outside world to handle.”
Dusk breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad he didn’t—That an incident has been avoided.” She glanced timidly towards a fabulous display before retreating to the other side of the room.
The dragon noted her reaction and fixed his eyes on the rich sight she had fled from. “The Elements of Harmony!” Spike exclaimed. He ran towards the brilliant jewels, whose sensuous beauty was matched only by their metaphysical benevolence. He stopped in front of the golden stand and reached out to touch Loyalty. “It looks…delicious.”
“Hold it, dragonborn,” Twilight scolded and yanked him back by his tail. “You’ve been a good assistant and a good friend, but if you eat the Elements of Harmony, I’m going to use every spell in the Hoxsur Anguis on you.”
“I wasn’t actually gonna eat ‘em,” he complained. “In fact, I was about to suggest we use their power to fix Celestia.”
“Of course!” Twilight burst out, “I still remember when we used the elements to transform Nightmare Moon back into Luna. This has to be the answer.” A rare smile broke on her face; she was content that the puzzle was solved, and being with her own element made her feel somehow fulfilled. It brought up the memories that were actually good, of times of peace and friendship.
“It wouldn’t work,” Dusk interrupted from behind a pillar. Still hiding from the virtuous elements, Celestia shared her story. “When I first met the Elements, I thought they were mine like everything else. But when I touched them, it hurt so bad. They were so powerful and good, and I was so bad. They terrified me, so I hid them. When Nightmare Moon attacked me, I reached for the worst thing I could think of to fight her with. I used the Elements against her. They wouldn’t let me hurt her like I wanted, so I made them send her to the moon. They almost backfired. It was only for a bit, but I could tell they could have destroyed me. I could never go near them again. That’s why I used you and your friends to stop Nightmare Moon when she came back. I only appeared when I was sure you were done using their magic.”
“If that’s true, why didn’t they destroy Nightmare Moon?” Twilight questioned.
“Luna was a good pony,” was Dusk’s only answer.
Doctor Sparkle began to analyze the situation: “So it was true—the Elements of Harmony did restore Luna to harmony by removing her shell of resentment, leaving only the good pony inside. But you think that is different from you?”
“Luna said it felt good when they fixed her, but I only ever felt pain from them,” she related, nervously peeking at the fabulous crystals.
“If we can’t use the Elements of Harmony, what else is here?” Twilight asked, disappointed.
Dusk considered the question, and thought aloud, “Well, the next most powerful thing I know of in here is Discord.” She knew before she said it that it was a horrible idea.
Twilight and Spike blurted, “What did you say?” They got goose bumps as they were suddenly aware of a tall, misshapen figure across the chamber.
“She…I woke him up once before,” Dusk revealed. “Not fully, just to where I could talk to him, but he wasn’t very cooperative.”
“Why were you talking to Discord?” Spike inquired.
“I wanted to learn about his dark powers,” she admitted. “He thought I was really funny for some reason.”
“We obviously couldn’t let him use that power again. We could ask him what to do, but we couldn’t trust his answers,” Twilight finished the matter. “Is there some kind of record for this vault that lists what each artifact does?”
Dusk agreed, “Oh yeah, the manifest. I should have thought of that first.” She trotted to the wall and pulled a book off a shelf. She passed it to Doctor Sparkle, who hastily opened it and entered her native literary world.
Twilight found the information she was looking for and began to read off the notable entries:
“Invisibility. Subject may not become visible again.
“Sword will attack anyone who threatens the bearer of the matching gauntlet,
even the bearer of the gauntlet. Gauntlet cannot be removed.
“Wearer of mask will become a vessel for the spirit of Kal Mortis. Warning: Kal Mortis.”
“Whoa, those really suck,” Spike remarked.
Twilight continued undeterred. “Oh, these are better:
“When planted spreads extremely fast. Will grow fruit, vegetables, grain, poison, and carnivorous plants. Well, it’s sort of better. Let’s go for something more relevant,” she said as she sped up, scanning page after page of the most promising entries.
She rattled off a paranormal laundry list, “Mind reading, transfers consciousness, crosses dimensions.” She frowned. “That’s the last entry. I don’t think any of these will help us.”
Dusk was crushed. “Really? There’s nothing at all?”
“Well, this is interesting,” Twilight held out unlikely hope. “It says, ‘unknown.’”
“Unknown?” Spike asked curiously.
“It’s a book, but I guess they still don’t know what it does,” Doctor Sparkle surmised.
She turned the page and skimmed its history. “In 1374 the book was rediscovered by a librarian at the Archives of Asturcón. Experts dispute records concerning its previous history. The book was found to be occupied by a magic presence, and the librarian began a cult centering on the artifact. Those involved revered it as a source of guidance. When it was found that members of the cult would no longer worship the Princess, Imperial troops hunted them to near extinction and the book was brought here.”
She spotted the usage notes at the bottom of the entry and read, “Author unknown. Intent unknown. Do not open. Do not read.”
“I might not take my own advice on that one,” Dusk quipped, “I’d go for any kind of guidance right now.”
“J 59,” Twilight noted the reference number. Spike instinctively traced the organized layout of the Vault to a pedestal on the north side and alerted the others to his position.
There lay the ancient book, its cover worn and cracked. The golden unicorn head embossed onto the front had lost its luster. “I found the book, but there’s no way I’m touching that thing,” Spike announced. “We have a deal,” he reminded Twilight.
“All right, Spike, I won’t make you,” she acknowledged.
“What’s that about?” Dusk asked.
“Spike here would do anything for me,” Twilight explained, “except let any spirits into his mind.”
Spike crossed his arms and repeated bluntly, “You can get possessed all you want, but this space is not for rent.”
Doctor Sparkle turned to Dusk and offered, “I’ll open it, if you’re sure you want that. I do have that kind of experience. Books are my thing, anyway.”
The tiny alicorn nodded.
Twilight approached the object of their discussion and steadied herself. She opened the cover gingerly, but her mind was wary for any sign of trouble. The smell of dusty parchment was the only thing that came out at her. “It’s—blank,” she remarked disappointedly. She held up a page to show off the fragile, empty surface.
“It’s black,” Dusk commented.
“No it isn’t, it’s white. Well, it’s very faded, but…” Twilight paused. “Does it look black to you?”
“Coal,” Dusk insisted. “Weird.”
"So it looks different to you than to me?” Doctor Sparkle wondered. “Spike, what do you see?”
“OH MY GODDESS!” the little dragon exclaimed indignantly. “What did I just say?!” He grabbed expressively onto the sides of his head and announced, “Occupado! I’m not looking at your crazy paper.”
“Sorry,” Twilight apologized. “You’re right. I wish I hadn’t started myself.” She turned her attention back to the manuscript. “I’ll see what I can find.” She stared into the apparent blankness of the parchment and opened herself up to sense any alien feelings or suggestions. She emphasized her questions in her mind: What should be done with Dusk? How can the sun be raised again?
She took a hoof-full of pages and pulled open a new section near the middle of the book. She blinked at it and asked importantly, “Did I just turn the page?”
“A lot,” Dusk reported.
Twilight applied herself to it again, but saw no further signs. “It’s not going to show me anything. I think it might be waiting for you, Dusk.”
“Creeeeeepy,” Spike murmured.
Twilight agreed, “If we let it choose the page, we let it be in control. Remember, it’s here because it’s dangerous.”
Dusk nodded, but replied, “If it has any answers for me I want to know.”